


Ice Cream

by jojothecr



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Schmoop, Written in 2009
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-21
Updated: 2011-06-21
Packaged: 2017-10-20 15:07:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojothecr/pseuds/jojothecr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: J2. Ice cream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice Cream

“Jesus Christ, Jared.” Jensen’s sigh doesn’t sound horrified so much as downright sleepy as he pauses at the kitchen doorway, looking intensely down at Jared, who is comfortably settled on the floor in front of the fridge. “What the hell you’re doin’?”

Mouth full of God only knows what; Jared looks up, gesturing wildly. ““Th frez’s nt wrkin’ anthescream’s mltn’.”

Jensen shifts his weight from one foot to the other, like he’s trying to get better signal. “Come again?”

Shaking his head at Jensen’s lack of understanding, Jared swallows quickly and points at the dewy paper cups spread around him. “The freezer’s not workin’ and the ice cream’s meltin’,” he explains. Slowly.

“It’s night.”

“Well, yeah,” Jared confirms, as though Jensen is the one acting peculiarly. “But the freezer’s still not workin’, and the ice cream’s still meltin’. It’d be a shame to let it go to waste.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and lets his head thud against the doorjamb. “Yeah. Sure. Of course.” That’s, of course, totally understandable. “Sadie wakes me in the middle of the night, insistin’ that I gotta go with her… I hear some noises and think that you’re at least dyin’. I’m thinkin’ there’s some monster in the kitchen, so I’m just about to grab my baseball bat… and then I come here and… Yeah, there is a monster in the kitchen.”

“I’m wounded,” Jared mumbles reproachfully around the spoon in his mouth, clutching his T-shirt at the place where his heart beats. “Deeply.”

“Me too,” Jensen returns, wincing as he rubs at the reddened spot on his elbow. “I hit my arm on the freakin’ jamb ‘cause of you.”

“Awww, sleepy Jenny missed the door again?”

“Hate you,” Jensen utters, sparing Jared a killer look for the nickname.

“Aw, don’t be like that… I know you secretly love me. Passionately.”

Jensen quirks his eyebrow and tilts his head to the side slightly, eyeing the other man, the kid with a cup of ice cream in his lap, thoroughly. “Decidedly not.”

“Oh, c’mon, Jenny… stop whinin’ and c’m here,” Jared pats the empty space beside him and grins sweetly. “There’s plenty of it.”

“No,” Jensen shakes his head vehemently, but his expression is kind of unconvincing. “No, absolutely not.”

“Tsk tsk, y’know you want to. So c’mon, do it,” Jared teases, grimacing like the Devil himself. “Besides, I can’t eat it all myself.”

“Of course you can,” Jensen chuckles.

Jared surveys the cups around him critically and shrugs, “Maybe. But it’s no fun.” And then he starts singing, making the short hair on the back of Jensen’s neck stand up in horror. “Aaaall byyyy myyyyseeeelf.”

“Okayokayokay,” Jensen panics, raising his hands in defeat. “Fine... Just stop singin’ for Christ’s sake! The neighbours will think we’re torturin’ the dogs… Surely you don’t want that.”

Ignoring Jared’s shit eating grin, Jensen drops on the floor across from him, mirroring his cross-legged posture. Jared reaches up into the top drawer, getting out another large spoon which he dives in a bucket of vanilla ice cream and then shoves towards Jensen eagerly.

Jensen makes a slightly disgusted face though. “You mind handin’ over the chocolate one?” He asks. “I-I don’t really like vanilla.”

“There you go.”

  
“You know,” Jensen mutters a moment later around a mouthful of chocolate ice cream. “You’ve talked me into many, many, crazy things… But this one, it definitely takes the cake.”

“So worried ‘bout your diet,” Jared nudges Jensen’s thigh with his toe playfully. “But where’s the fun if you don’t sin from time to time…? You gotta live a little there, ol’ man.”

“Dude,” Jensen scowls, ignoring, or simply not commenting on, the pet name, which is just another of the many Jared’s granted him. “Even a four year old kid makes less mess than you.” And he’s not really exaggerating, because Jared’s got the ice cream truly almost everywhere.

Jared pouts, injured, and then he buries his fingers in his strawberry ice cream and smudges it over Jensen’s face; from his forehead down to his chin. “There you have it,” he says. “Protective coloration.”

Jensen opens his mouth on a gasp and a wordless curse. “You... didn’t!”

“Oh, I think I just did,” Jared laughs, reaching in the ice cream again. This time aiming for Jensen’s cheek.

“Are you officially declarin’ war?” Jensen asks, burying his spoon in his bucket of chocolate, flashing threatening looks at Jared.

“Officially,” Jared certifies enthusiastically as he waves his loaded spoon slightly, hitting Jensen square above the eye.

 

Three minutes later, they’re both covered in ice cream, from head to toe. The floor is a slippery, rainbow coloured mess, and a glob of vanilla is slipping down the door of the kitchen unit. Jared’s tongue slips past Jensen’s lips, tasting chocolate and sharing strawberries, and his fingers cup Jensen’s cheek, angling his head just right. Neither can explain or recall how this particular detail has come about, but somehow, in his vehement effort to avoid the vanilla ice cream thrown in his direction, Jensen had managed to lose his balance and had landed sprawled on the floor, and Jared had followed. The rest is a historical mystery.

“Ja-Jay…?” Jensen whispers breathlessly and almost feebly, gazing up at Jared, who’s leaning above him.  
He looks like he’s about to panic or like he’ll leap off the floor in a moment, despite Jared’s fingers entangled in his hair and his own fist curled in Jared’s T-shirt. Despite the tiny, practically inconsequential, fact that he really, really wants to stay just where he is.

“Don’t think,” Jared solicits, pressing his grimy fingers on Jensen’s lips, smearing the ice cream even further. “And don’t say anythin’… We can always freak out tomorrow.”

“O-okay,” Jensen breathes out when Jared’s ice cream sticky and cold lips close around the pulse point on his throat, making his whole body react at once, leaning up into Jared’s and pressing closer.

“I totally knew it,” Jared grins when he looks up, evidently enjoying Jensen’s confusion and inability to focus.

“Knew what?”

“That you secretly love me. Passionately.”

“Yeah... I think I actually might.”

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted here: http://jojothecr.livejournal.com/211985.html#cutid1


End file.
